


searching, (un)certain

by fisheyechain



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Gen, ill add tags once they become relevant, sort of but not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27232201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fisheyechain/pseuds/fisheyechain
Summary: There's something going on behind the scenes, and Han Jisung would really prefer not to know what.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han & Yang Jeongin | I.N, if there's more later ill add them, maybe
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	searching, (un)certain

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't tag a whole lot bc I didn't want to spoil ;;  
> Ships won't be the main focus of this fic - they might not show up at all, but I'm leaving the possibility open.  
> I hope you all enjoy! I put a lot of work into this :')

The dim light of the candle flickered and Jisung squinted, trying to interpret the scribbles on the letter in his hand. His back ached from hours hunched over his desk, no thanks to his flat back wooden chair, and a glance at the clock on the wall revealed that it was nearing one in the morning. Sighing, he leaned back in his chair to stretch out the stiffness in his spine. 

The letter in his hand was the latest in a short series of correspondence between him and the Chief District Watchman. A much-regretted correspondence; Jisung preferred to isolate himself from society as much as possible. Ruefully, he recalled the unfortunate meeting that had led to his current misery.

_ Early one morning, a brisk rap at Jisung's door floated into his subconsciousness. Mind muddled from sleep, Jisung muttered a vague "go away, I'm assembling a trebuchet" and turned to face the other side of the bed. Enough time passed for him to fall back into a light sleep, and just as he began to snore, a second round of knocks rang out, followed by an unfamiliar voice calling, "Han Jisung! Open the door!"  _

_ Hearing an order directed at him was enough to jolt Jisung into properly waking up. Mindlessly, he scrambled to throw back his blankets and make his way to the door, not questioning why a clear stranger knew his name. By the time it occurred to him that he wasn't actually expecting a visitor, it was too late; he'd already opened the door.  _

_ In front of him stood a uniformed man - judging from his capped hat and the badge shining on his chest, he was a watchman, perhaps of a higher rank. Jisung stepped backwards. "How can I…" he began, only for the man to step inside without invitation. "Sir-" _

_ Jisung closed the door behind him. Confused, terrified, and somewhat entertained by the watchman's nonsensical actions, he approached the man and opened his mouth to speak. "Sir-"  _

_ He quickly quieted when the man spun around to stare him down with fierce eyes that promised suffering. Hastily, he stepped backwards, only for the backs of his knees to collide with the edge of his rigid wooden chair. Jarring pain shot through his legs and he hopped up and down, mouthing profanities until it ebbed.  _

_ Jisung looked up at the watchman, who was a bizarre sight standing in the midst of the mess. Against the warm tones and soft lines of Jisung's home, his dark hues and sharp edges stood out starkly - a sudden splash of ink on a piece of paper, he mused. Attempting to salvage the remains of his surely shredded first impression, he bowed hastily and offered the (only) chair to the watchman. _

_ Shooting a strange look at Jisung, the watchman seated himself. Left with no choice but to stand in his own home, Jisung shifted from foot to foot and fidgeted with his hands behind his back. The watchman merely stared at him, like he was waiting for him to speak. After several moments of uncomfortable eye contact, Jisung broke the silence. "So…" he began. "What brings you here, sir?" _

_ The watchman glared at him with laser-like intensity. "Fess up, Han. Where is he?" _

_ "Confess to what, sir?" Jisung replied as politely as possible. "Who are you looking for?"  _

_ "Don't play dumb. Yang Jeongin was spotted entering your residence after he committed arson. The game's up." _

_ Jisung blinked. "Who's Yang Jeongin? And to my home? Are you sure?" His heartbeat accelerated painfully - the watchman didn't believe him, if his forceful gaze was any indication. "Sir?" _

_ The watchman's eyes narrowed. "Where is he?" _

_ Trying to wipe his sweating palms on the back of his nightclothes discreetly, Jisung mustered up enough courage to retort, "Did I not just tell you that I don't know who this Yang Jeongin fellow is, much less his whereabouts?" and instantly regretted it when the watchman shot to his feet, pointing the pistol (pistol? When did that get there?) in his hand between Jisung's eyes.  _

_ "Hands up where I can see them. Now," he barked when Jisung began to protest. _

_ Reluctantly, Jisung held his hands up. "Sir, really, this is unreasonable, I-"  _

_ The watchman ignored his attempts at communication and surveyed the room. Books, clothes, and bits of crumpled up paper littered the floor of his one-room residence, and embarrassment pricked at the back of Jisung's neck at the mess. He strode around the room, knocking on walls, even crouching down to search under Jisung's bed. The floorboards creaked under his forceful footsteps; at one point, he made his way to the window and threw it open with a bang, only to peer down, perhaps at the street below. _

_ Jisung could do nothing but watch helplessly as the watchman searched his room, arms quickly becoming sore from holding them up. Finally, the man straightened and turned to look at Jisung. An uncomfortable silence followed.  _

_ The man sighed. "You aren't hiding him, are you." _

_ Jisung bristled, dropping his arms. "I've made it very clear that I am not." _

_ "Alright." The man sat down in the chair, taking out a wrinkled piece of paper and spreading it out on Jisung's table. "The District Watchmen Office is searching for Yang Jeongin, who's on the run after he committed no small amount of arson. On government property, no less." _

_ On the paper, an adolescent stared out at the ceiling. Above his head, a bolded headline loomed in capital letters. "Wanted, preferably alive," Jisung read aloud.  _

Yang Jeongin _ , the caption continued below Jeongin's picture.  _ Believed to be armed; highly dangerous. Report any sightings to the District Watchman Station _. _

_ "Really? This child? He seems much too young to commit such a serious crime," he mused. _

_ The watchman's expression was grim. "I'd think that too, but I saw it myself. Nearly burned the whole building down before the firemen made it. Besides, he's older than he looks - 19 years old is hardly a child. Anyways, he entered your home last night shortly after escaping, according to witness accounts, but there's been no report of him leaving. It's suspicious, but I just searched. He's not here." _

_ Jisung frowned. "Last night… I don't clearly recall it, but I don't believe there was anything outside of the ordinary," he said slowly.  _

_ "Alright, I'll take your word for it." Standing up, the watchman offered a hand, which Jisung shook hesitantly. "I'll keep in contact. Let me know if Yang shows up." _

_ "I will. I'm sorry I couldn't provide more assistance." _

_ The watchman sighed. "Don't worry about it, Han." On his way out of the doorway, he handed Jisung the wanted flyer. "I'll stay in contact. Keep an eye out." With that, he closed the door behind him. _

In the following weeks, the watchman had upheld his promise. Every four days, Jisung found a neatly sealed letter sitting on the floor from where it had been slipped through the door crack. They contained various messages which caught him up on how the search was going (not well) and essentially amounted to asking for news about Jeongin. Unfortunately, the watchman's handwriting resembled overcooked noodles and deciphering a one-page letter ate up hours of Jisung's time; the ink smudges didn't help. In comparison, Jisung's replies were brief despite his flowery language.

He had not been completely honest with the watchman. He didn't know where Yang Jeongin was, but there was much, much more he did.

He met Jeongin in secondary school. 

Yang Jeongin had been infamous for his cold silence, his fierce stare, and the undeniable charisma attracting others towards him despite his distance. Despite being an underclassman, many students in higher years, Jisung included, had been intimidated by him as well. Perhaps it was surprising that they grew as close as brothers, but Jisung chose not to question it.

Even after Jisung graduated, he and Jeongin continued exchanging teasing jabs and companionship, albeit via letter and perhaps less often than before. Still, Jisung wasn't busy and remained unemployed, so it was never too long before he reached out to Jeongin again.

Upon Jeongin's graduation, however, Jeongin had abruptly cut contact after telling Jisung, in person, to stay safe and not to worry about him in the coming years. When pressed for more information, Jeongin had shaken his head and replied that he wasn't allowed to say more. The silence had been unnerving, to say the least, after nine years of regular communication, but it remained unbroken out of respect for Jeongin's wishes - that is, until Jisung had received a letter two days prior to the watchman's visit. 

" _ Jisung, _

_ Don't be worried, but people might ask you about me in the next few days. I can't tell you everything right now, I'm sorry. I promise I will soon. In any case, do _ not _ tell anyone anything about me. Ideally, pretend you haven't heard of me before. Don't try to find me. I'll come to you and explain everything when it's safe. Thank you for trusting me for so long. _

_ Your dear friend, _

_ Jeongin. _ "

Jisung didn't doubt that the watchman was telling the truth, but he would die a hundred times over for Jeongin. So every time he received a letter from the watchman, he replied with the same message: "No new information has reached my awareness since our last correspondence."

Jisung woke up with a start. Blearily, he noted that the candle had nearly burnt out. His back ached, stiff from hours of sitting in the same position - wait. He squinted at the clock, which was nearly unreadable in the weak light, and let out a groan when he finally managed to read the time: a few minutes past four in the morning. So he'd fallen asleep, letter in hand, for about three hours.

Jisung didn't remember the contents of the letter, but the details of the search were unimportant to him regardless. On a spare piece of paper, he scribbled out a quick reply.  _ I have not heard anything regarding Yang's location _ . After checking it over to make sure none of the ink had smudged, he slid it into the envelope and dripped candle wax onto it until it was sealed. 

Satisfied with his work, Jisung stood and stretched, feeling his joints pop. Then, yawning, he finally made his way over to his bed, collapsing into the welcoming warmth of his mattress, where his blankets hugged him and lulled him to dreamland. It was nearing four thirty; in two hours, the district would begin to wake up - the newsboys' calls would fill the air, and the steady  _ clop-clop _ of horses would accompany the light jingling of their day's cargo. For now, Jisung slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you believe it if I told you these 1k+ words took me more than two weeks to hammer out? Because it sadly did
> 
> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed (or even if you didn't! feel free to complain about my writing if you want lol)  
> Also, please talk to me on [twt](https://twitter.com/honeymus_tard), I'm lonely there ;;


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